The Exception
by TatorVerse
Summary: "Love was not this high impact collision that came barging in out of nowhere. No. Instead, it was a slow, steady burn that accumulated throughout the years." A take on a heteroromantic asexual Jughead.


**I did a little research on heteroromantic asexuals but I'm not quite sure if I really got it right. So I hope nobody gets offended by my interpretation and representation of it. I don't really know the feelings involved as I am not one myself so yeah. I just really got tired of people complaining about how Jughead isn't represented as an asexual in the series just because of the whole Bughead thing. I mean, I know asexuals can fall in love they just don't feel any sexual desires. At least that's how I understand heteroromantic asexualism. Anyway, please do correct me if I get anything wrong. I do like learning more about it. Anyway, enjoy!**

What is love?

It's such an age old question that no one answer could really suffice.

By the books, love was an emotion that consumed the entirety of a human being. It crept into one's heart, adjusting its tempo accordingly. It made palms sweat and stomachs flutter. It tampered with sleeping patterns, and yet gave one the adrenaline to run a marathon. It was sickeningly sweet and harshly bitter all at once. It allowed one to live through the highest of highs and the lowest of lows in a matter on moments. And love, if true, was once in a lifetime.

To one Jughead Jones, love sounded a lot like poppycock.

Jughead had always known he was unlike the other kids his age. He was unique in many ways. One in particular was his views on girls and romance.

Jughead never really liked girls. He never really saw the appeal. On the other hand, he wasn't interested in boys as well. Gender, to him, wasn't really that important. It did not matter to him what people identified themselves as. He couldn't bother with labels. He saw each person as who they were. And that, to him, was more interesting.

As other boys his age grew out of the cootie phase and were swept into the world of crushes and flings, he remained as is. Now objectively, he could identify what made a girl attractive, which basically came down to having the right proportion and symmetry. But he didn't really care for such things. He never felt the desire and lust that plagued the minds of his adolescent comrades. It wasn't like he was grossed out by sex and the like. He was just uninterested.

He never dreamed of going on dates with the prettiest girl in school. He never fantasized about secretly making out in the library during free period. He never craved for a woman's seductive touch. These things were irrelevant to say the least.

He did, however, wonder what it felt like to hold someone's hand and never wanting them to let go. He wondered what it must be like to have someone's presence fill the room and complete the moment despite the silence caught in between. He wondered what it meant to have somebody so irreplaceable in his life.

Now, Jughead was far from a romantic. He scoffed at the notion of love at first sight, and detested the capitalist holiday that is Valentine's Day. No, he wasn't your bouquet-of-roses-on-your-doorstep kind of guy. But he did secretly wonder what it was like to be Romeo Montague so enamored by his Juliet.

He never really imagined himself falling in love with anybody in his life. Well, at least not in the way it was portrayed in the books and onscreen. And yet, there he was, eyes glued onto Betty Cooper as she laughed at a joke Kevin had made just a second ago.

Love was not this high impact collision that came barging in out of nowhere. No. Instead, it was a slow, steady burn that accumulated throughout the years. Somehow, it was always there, just not quite yet what it was now.

It was there when eight year-old Jughead insisted on giving Betty a piggyback ride home that time she sprained her ankle after climbing that tree. It was there each time Betty woke Jughead up with a call whenever she had a nightmare because she was too embarrassed to call Archie and too scared to go to Polly's room alone. It was there when Jughead would give Betty the good blanket every time they would spend the night in the tree house. It was there when Jughead would patiently listen to Betty rant about one thing or the other. It was there every time Jughead would let Betty steal some fries off his plate. It was there that one time he let Betty try his beanie on. It was there in every tooth they lost, every pimple that popped up, every bruise and scar caused by childhood misadventures. It was there in every prepubescent and pubescent memoir that they shared. It was there now. And, he assumes, will always be there forever.

He never experienced love the way it was in the books. His heart never raced whenever she was close. His palms were never sweaty whenever he held her hand. His stomach was never filled with butterflies by the thought of seeing her. He never lost sleep at the thought of her, and he never woke up with a jump in his step knowing his day would be filled by the sight of her.

Instead, he held her hand as if she was something precious he had to keep safe. Because she was. He enjoyed her company, whether it was filled with her nonstop chatter or just simply a comfortable silence shared between them. He trusted her beyond anyone else in his life, telling her things he wasn't sure he had already admitted to himself. He was never filled with lust whenever he kissed her. Instead, he felt an encompassing sense of comfort that made everything feel right and whole. He was never excited at the thought of seeing her but knew that a day without her seemed quite off. And somehow, he always found himself just below her window in true Romeo Montague fashion.

He was, most definitely, in love with Betty Cooper.

The first time he told her he loved her, it came as a shock to them both. Being the totally uncliche Jughead Jones, it didn't come out as a profession of love that followed a major event in their lives. No, it was simple and anticlimactic, just the way he preferred it.

It was a Thursday evening. They had just had some dinner at Pop's and Jughead was walking Betty home. It was their usual routine, nothing out of the ordinary really. They talked a bit and eventually reached a comfortable silence. Jughead, consumed by his recent musings on love and romance reached a conclusion that didn't really surprise him.

"Betty," he said, catching her attention. She turned to him with a smile, waiting for what he was about to say next, not really expecting what was about to happen.

"I love you." He said. It wasn't raw and vulnerable like in the movies. In fact, it was said in his normal Jughead tone. His heart wasn't racing in anticipation; it was steady in its beat as he looked on at the girl he loved. It was one of those things he knew he had to say, like a truth that had to be delivered. Because it was.

Betty, recovering from the initial shock, went on her tiptoes and gave Jughead a soft and meaningful kiss.

"Oh, Juggie. I love you too." She admitted bashfully. A small yet genuine smile etched its way onto Jughead's lips at the girl's reciprocation of his confession. They continued on with their walk home as if nothing big had just happen, the only traces of the exchange found on their smiles and in the slightly tightened hold of his hand on hers.

Not much has changed since their romantic exchange. They went on with their usual ways. As strange as their pairing was at the start, they soon became a Riverdale constant. As many a high school drama had passed, Betty and Jughead seemed to stay as solid as ever. Of course, there were disagreements here and there. They were human after all. But none too big to keep them apart.

It was ten years later that Jughead found himself underneath her window once more.

Betty was visiting her parents back in Riverdale and was staying the night in her old room. Now, Jughead was no romantic to say the least. But somehow, it felt right to pay homage to the days of their youth. As he climbed the ladder that led to her bedroom window, he felt a strange yet comforting sense of déjà vu, remembering his fifteen year-old self being in the same, but not so same, situation. As he tapped the window twice, he was greeted by the surprised look on his girlfriend's face.

"Juggie? What are you doing?" she asked, completely bewildered by his presence outside her window.

"Hey there, Juliet." He smirked. "I was wondering if you'd want to run away with me and get married." He half-joked.

"What?" she was taken by surprise.

"I'm not one for jewelry, but Ronnie said you'd like this." He said as he fished out a small box from his jacket pocket. He opened the box and Betty nearly teared up at the sight of it.

"Oh my God, Juggie. Yes! Of course I'll marry you!" she squealed in joy as she took her boyfriend's, now fiance's, face to her own.

After months of prepping and dealing with a control freak mother-in-law to be, and perfectionist maid of honor, Jughead found himself looking at his bride making her way toward him. Now, he wasn't really a social person, but he knew he had to give Betty the wedding she had dreamed of ever since she was a little girl. The slight discomfort at the many eyes staring at him would be forgotten at the thought of her happiness.

Many grooms would claim that their heart had burst at the sight of their bride on the aisle. Many would have wiped away a few stray tears of joy that had escaped their eyes. Many would find their hearts beating erratically behind their chest. But Jughead was never like many.

As beautiful as Betty looked in her gown, the image of her didn't matter to him. It never really did. Because it was never her looks that had captured his heart. It didn't matter what Betty looked like. As long as Betty was Betty, everything was perfect to him.

So when she caught his eye as she made her way to the altar, his heart didn't fill up with love the way the books had told him. No, he felt what he always felt when he looked at her. He felt at home. He felt right.

That day he let go of the guise of Romeo and Juliet. He didn't need to pretend to be some famous character to feel love anymore. Because all along he was already the male lead, however unconventional he may have been, to his own love story.

He was Jughead and she was Betty. Not the rule, but the exception.

Jughead will probably never know the kind of love written by poets and romantics. But that was just fine. An unconventional person like himself deserved an unconventional love.

No, he didn't really like girls. He never did. He never will. But he knew, as time had constantly proven, that Betty Cooper was and will always be the exception.


End file.
